


Damian Al Ghul

by Flyingbirdietimmy



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyingbirdietimmy/pseuds/Flyingbirdietimmy
Summary: What is Damian chose to return to the Al Ghuls instead of becoming Robin?





	1. Duel

"Deep into that darkness, peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."  
~Edgar Allan Poe~

Do you hear what I hear? The screaming? The crashing? The thrashing and banging? Of course not. You can't, because it's all in my head. Memories, oh such accursed things that they are! They hold me ensnared in an eternal deadlock. I can't move an inch in any direction without his approval. I am his to command. Their blood cried out to me, belonging to all the innocents I've stolen from. But alas, what can I do but follow orders?  
~~~  
10 years ago  
~~~  
It was a mid summer's night filled with the clanging and flashing of blade on blade. Interspersed between clanks came soft panting and an occasional grunt. Both contenders seemed to be evenly matched. The female, towering over her opponent, made a critical error which the boy was swift to exploit. In the proceeding moments the boy had managed to drive the woman back, knock her down, and hover the glinting tip of his blade above her neck. "I win, mother." The brunette watched him with jaded eyes, a smile slowly crawling across her features. "So you did. What would you like to know?" He didn't hesitate with his answer. "My father. What is his name?" "Bruce Wayne." She seemed to pause a moment, then added "Batman." The boy closed his eyes, picturing the cowl with the pointy ears in his mother's chest. "Batman. Sounds.. inspiring." He tucked his sword into it's sheath, and stepped away from his mother. "Same time next year!" She chirped, picking herself up and brushing off a few pebbles.

The boy hummed cheerfully to himself. "Happy birthday to me."  
~~~  
"Damian!" It was the voice of his mother.  
He looked up from the poor assassin who had been assigned as essentially a training dummy, shoulders back, head high, just as he had been taught. "Hello mother. What would you like?" "I have a task for you. It's time to meet your father." "Oh? Why?" His heart swelled at the idea, but he knew better than to let on. It was dangerous, and had the potential to jeopardize his opportunity. "You need to distract him. He operates in opposition to us, and it is vital you keep him on his toes so he can't focus on what I'm doing." She responded, her hips swaying to the side in a brief moment of annoyance. The boy guessed she must have already explained it a few times. "I can do that. Where will you be in the meantime?" "Britain. I intend to take it over. And we are leaving now." He nodded and turned to get a few things, but his mother called him back. "I've packed everything you could possibly need for this trip. It's on the aircraft." Damian cast a longing glance at his home, the compound, and sighed. He quickly realized his mistake, but his mother only appeared to be sympathetic. She set a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be back soon." You'll be back soon. It was what she said right before he had to leave for a mission. Every time she had been right. She would be right again.  
~~~  
The engines roared as the boy looked at the window. When he was younger he had the urge to press his face against the glass to see everything, but that had been taken long ago now. His first assignment had been with his grandfather, and he didn't tolerate the childlike wonder Damian had once exhibited. Naturally, the boy wanted to please him, so he had settled back in his seat, staring straight ahead with a slight flush of embarrassment colouring his olive cheeks. This time, however, his grandfather wasn't there, so he could at least look, as he had done many times before. The sky was blue and endless with seas of fluffy clouds. The boy tried not to let his imagination run away with them. He wasn't the boy who dreamt of pirates and super heroes. Grandfather didn't like it. But he liked when Damian showed how superior he was with a sword. Damian could almost see the glint of pride when he perfectly executed a prisoner. Damian had stopped getting stuck on the crimson that stained his hands.


	2. Father.

"Very private people have mastered the art of telling you about themselves but doing it in such a way that you think you know a lot."  
~Unknown~  
Fair is a concept I'm not familiar with. Discipline, inheritance, and one's own superiority and work are what determine their place. Mara no longer resides in this world, and once again I am to be at fault- er that honor fell to me. She was unworthy, and I purged the world of her incompetence. It doesn't hurt. I don't see her in my dreams. I've never thought about how things would be if I had been born into an average family. I am satisfied here. That's what they tell me. ~~~  
Back to the past  
~~~  
He barely came up to the dark knight's waist, but for the intensity of the look the young boy gave him, he could have been six feet taller. "I thought you'd be taller." And it was painfully apparent in the boy's tone that this man was nothing like he'd expected. The many secret fantasies about the powerful man who could teach him how to hold his grandfather's respect all faded into ash in that first face to face encounter. He didn't resonate with power. He was just- a man.  
And the man, clad in black from the tips of his pointy ears to the hard and heavy looking boots on his feet, seemed to look upon him with disdain. "Talia-" he began, his voice deep with a hard rumble as if that of a light earthquake shaking pebbles. "You say he is my- our son? How do I know this isn't some sort of trick." His mother smiled pleasantly and gestured to the boy. "Don't you see? He has your features. He even mastered, (and I'm not completely sure how as he has never seen you before), your signature bat glare." "Damian..." the man, his father, said slowly as if trying out a new word for the first time. There was no pleasantry to it, and the boy easily detected that his father wasn't fond of him. Why had the boy ever thought differently? He had to earn his place, and earn his father's respect just as he had to his mother's and his grandfather's. "Why is he here, Talia? And why have I only learned of him now?" Talia placed her hand in her hip, head tilted while her long silky hair fell to the side. "I had hoped to raise him on my own, but I've had a recent run in with my father that put us at odds. I fear for his safety, and with that I shall leave him with you. Farewell beloved." She kissed her hand and blew it towards him, and the man had no response whatsoever. She disappeared into the night leaving the two males alone. There was a long moment of silence before the Bat sighed heavily. "Come along, Damian." "Where are we going?" He asked with a suspicious note to his voice. "I just want to confirm her story." His tone suggested Damian drop it, and so he did, quietly following the man to his extravagant car. ~~~ His father's secret lair reminded Damian of the dungeons back home. They were dark with dim lighting and an eerie ambiance. Occasionally he would hear the flutter of wings which he could only presume was a bat. And there was that constant, irking drip drip drip from up above somewhere. It was enough that he found he was clenching his fists and just about ready to kill someone! Maybe his father. After all, that would solve the problem of him getting in his mother's way, and would cause great pride to befall his grandfather. Maybe. They did have some sort of pact and his mother wouldn't be pleased in the least. She had fallen in love which was exactly why she taught Damian to never do the same. It hurt, especially when the one you love doesn't love you back. 

The lighting in the cave was primarily centered around the computers and equipment. Damian watched with slight fascination as his father's finger's flew across the keys that corresponded to a giant computer screen in front of him. His eyes never wavered from the screen once, which Damian had to admire, as the few times he tried to use a keyboard it hadn't been easy. He had to pick out every letter one at a time until he at least had some sort of idea as to where they were. Most of his learning had been done with tutors and scrolls. His grandfather had insisted upon it, as it was a lot less distracting. "What do you call this place?" Damian suddenly asked, surprised at himself because he never wouldn't have done it at home. It was a question that bordered on curiosity, and his grandfather told him if he needed to know something.

He was even more surprised when he received an answer. Without looking over his father responded, "The Batcave." Of course. It was cliche. But Damian refrained from saying anything, although his silence seemed to relay his message anyways. "Arm." It took the boy a moment to realize he had been addressed, and he swiftly accommodated, offering the man his arm. His father turned it over and pulled back his sleeve to expose his wrist. The hairs on Damian's neck rose when he saw the needle, and he had the instant desire to fight, but he managed to control himself. "Relax your muscle." Damian growled. "I am trying."

Batman had to wait for a moment before he could take a sample of the boy's blood. And the tension was thick as they both waited for the results. His father was the one to break it, slowly saying "You.. are my son." Damian had to roll his eyes at that. "Of course I am. Did you not comprehend when my mother told you that?" His father pulled back the cowl, allowing Damian to see for the first time his icy blue eyes and short cropped hair. He had to gasp softly as he recognized some of his features. His father fixed him with a hard glare, then sighed, letting the moment pass. "My name is Bruce Wayne." "I know." Damian said sharply. "And that is about all I know. My mother did not speak of you often." No reaction. What did stir a reaction was the sound of feet hitting the hard stone floor in staccato. A boy decked in vermilion with a long cape and a mask appeared, skidding to a stop. "What's the problem, Br-- oh hello." "It's fine, Tim. He knows. This is.. my son, Damian." The newcomer's mouth dropped open. "What! Since when-" "Tim." Tim fell silent. "He will be staying with us while his mother is.. abroad. Can you please take him to a room and help him get settled?" Tim nodded. "Yeah. Sure." Bruce looked on warily. It was glaringly clear he didn't trust him. That wasn't new. Trust was rare in his world.


	3. Inferior

"In a way fighting was just like using magic. You said the words and they altered the universe. By merely speaking you could create damage and pain, amuse tears to fall, drive people away, make yourself feel better, make your life worse."  
~Lev Grossman~

I am darkness. I am shadow. I creep and crawl and strike before a single word can be uttered. It's consuming and with every lapsing second I lose my humanity, if I had any to begin with. I am not entirely sure. Did give climb a mountain when you were four with a broken wrist? I had to. Only the strong survive in my world. ~~~  
And back we go  
~~~ "So... uh.. where are you from, Damian?" Damian found the awkward note in his voice to be amusing. It was rare to encounter this as the assassins in the compound rarely spoke to him, and even then they spoke with an air of confidence. Prisoners were typically terrified. "Classified. If my father wishes to impart that knowledge to you that would be of his own volition." Uncomfortable silence. "Okaaaaay. Well what do you like to do?" Tim cast a glance back at Damian, who trailed behind. "Cut out the tongues of bothersome fopdoodles." He responded sharply. "Gee. Aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?" Tim rolled his eyes, his voice saturated with sarcasm. "Don't patronize me or I WILL break your face." "Okay! Fine. We're here anyways. Here is your room, little prince." Tim opened the door and stepped aside with a dramatic sweep of his arm.   
The young assassin bristled. "Who the hell do you think you are?! I have disposed of a myriad of foes which you would be fortunate to last two minutes against! Talk to me as such, pion!" Tim cocked his head, he himself feeling irritated by this newcomer who appeared out of nowhere and demanded his respect. He was an entitled brat. "Watch it. You have no idea what I'm capable of. And I imagine it would be easy to kill someone when their back is turned and they have no idea you are there little 'assassin'." "That's it! Learn your place!" Damian snarled and pounced on the older boy, his hands moving to strike pressure points.   
Tim had been caught off guard by such an abrupt attack, though he knew he should have been more diligent. He knew Damian's targets before they reached, and he snatched Damian's wrists, surprised by just how much resistance he was met with. "You're strong. I'll give you that, brat!" "I am much more than strong! My skills are unparalleled and never has there been one like me! Submit!" Damian pulled his wrists free, redirecting the momentum to jab into Tim's gut.   
Tim caught the elbow and forced the boy's arm behind his back. "Calm down!" At that moment heavy footsteps thudded down the hall. The tall muscular man looked intimidating even without the cowl, especially as his eyes narrowed, fixed intently upon the teen who had managed to pin the boy against the door. "What's the problem?" Both boys were frozen, but Damian was the first to move, pulling free of Tim and shoving him away. "He insulted me." Tim's cerulean eyes were blazing with fury. "He /attacked/ me! And I did no such thing! I was trying to be /friendly/!" Bruce was silent for a moment. "Tim, go to you room. I will see you shortly." The hate filled glare Tim shot the other boy would have been enough to incinerate anyone else, but Damian was immune to it. Mara often looked at him the same way. Damian was baffled though. When he and Mara fought he was met with respect, but his father's look suggested he had done something wrong. It must have been because he had been losing. His father expected him to prove himself. Maybe if he attacked his father he could make up for it. He lowered himself into a fighting stance, but before he moved the man held a hand up. "Stop." Damian stopped.

His father approached, placing a hand on the small of his back as he guided him into the room. "Sit down." Damian did so. His father sat down on the edge of the bed, an appropriate distance away from Damian. He gripped the edge tightly, and let out a heavy sigh. "This past hour you've made it very clear that you were raised in ways that are less than conventional here. For starters, we don't just /attack/ other people. And do not kill." He gasped sharply. Granted, he hadn't known much about life elsewhere other than what his grandfather had taught him. Many common customs eluded him as his field experience was limited among normal people. "May I ask why?" He couldn't help sounding bitter. "We just don't. And a young boy such as yourself shouldn't have killed anyone yet. But your mother is an Al Ghul... If you are going to stay here you need to follow my rules, and I will outline those all tomorrow. For now? Stay here and sleep. I have other things to do." He left, shutting the lights off and throwing Damian into darkness. The boy growled softly to himself and laid on his back. He didn't like it here at all. He couldn't wait to go home. He couldn't wait for his mother to come back.


	4. Mission Interrupted

"Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak."  
\- Sun Tzu ~~~~ Those cobalt eyes that stared back at me, wide eyed and crazed with the horrors they had witnessed grew dull. I grit my teeth together as my victim thrashed, but my thumbs staying locked in place, pressing into scar tainted flesh. He gargled, bits of spit speckling my face. His acrid breath was almost enough to make me gag, but I refrained. Grandfather was watching. Not here, but through the eyes of his men. Was I strong enough to strangle a man with my bare hands? Well it wasn't the first time I'd done it. The prisoners were just- undefinable. Five years had broke that man. If I wasn't good enough, I'd join them.  
~~~~  
Before  
~~~~  
It was silent. Not a good silent, like at home where the familiar walls brought him comfort. It was a silent that was deep and suffocating. It pulled him in all directions yet didn't touch him. Here, in the house of his enemies, where the darkness belonged to bats, Damian felt trapped. He tore himself from the bed, stumbling as the sheets tangled around his legs like vines, yanking him down. He bit his tongue, tasting the familiar, coppery blood. He spat, disgusted, and groped around in the dark for his entrapments.  
He had to get outside. His dilated emerald eyes fell upon the moon illuminated frame of the window. Frantically, he tore the curtains out of the way, fumbling to figure out the mechanism before he relented, smashing it instead.  
The air was cool and crisp. Above, the stars were booted out by ugly dark clouds that seemed to permeate the skies more often than not. This wasn't home. The shrubs cast dark and looming shadows that made Damian feel naked, for he had left his sword in his room. No one knew about that. He had been given strict instructions to leave his weapons in the cave, but he managed to sneak his one object of comfort into his room, beneath a loose panel in the floor.  
He lifted his head, eyes finding the shattered remains of the glass panel stuck to the wooden frame. And damn! The silent alarm! He would have to move fast if he hoped to grab his sword!  
He shimmied up the side of the building with all the grace and skill of a professional cat burglar, swinging himself in with ease. Footsteps thudded down the hall, which Damian knew had to belong to Alfred. With refreshed swiftness he pulled the sword from its place, donned his cloak, and stole away into the night.  
~~~  
His father had gone out to patrol the city with that insufferable partner of his. Damian had pretty much been placed under house arrest, but it irked Damian that the man thought he would actually listen. He could go where he wanted now that he wasn't bound by the customs and traditions enveloping the League. This was practically a vacation, and Damian had the full intention to enjoy it. Besides, he was following his mother's instructions to the letter by keeping his father on his toes.  
~~~~  
Harrison Bergeron was a high ranking official at a world renown company. He was stationed in Gotham, and had just the bad luck of being spotted by a certain assassin. Damian knew the man well. Not personally of course, but he had heard talk within the League of the man's crimes against humanity.  
His father's words rang in his head. He wasn't supposed to kill. But maybe that was because his father didn't think he knew who Damian should kill. Well, Damian could think of no one more qualified to die. He was an enemy of the League, so it would please his grandfather, and maybe it would get him in his father's good graces.  
Damian watched his target climb into a car and pull away, flanked by incognito security. It wouldn't be the easiest task, but it also wouldn't be impossible. Moving with astounding speed and agility without sacrificing his stealth, he moved, planting himself on the roof of the vehicle. He went unnoticed, save for the vigilante who had watched his decent.  
When the long car reached its destination and the guard moved around to open the door for Harrison, Damian braced himself. The moment he saw the exposed back of the man he struck, leaping forward with his sword aiming to pierce the heart.  
Something slammed into him, and Damian snarled as he picked himself up, brandishing the sword to face his attacker. His target took the opportunity to escape behind a line of security.  
Blue and black, bearing escrima sticks that crackled with electricity, Damian felt certain he could take this new foe. He charged forward, faking left while he made a jab at the male's side with his flashing blade. The man moved with unforeseen speed that caught Damian off guard and in consequence he received an elbow to the jaw.  
Damian spat blood to the side as he staggered back. Fury created white spots that blinded him. With a cry out outrage towards the foe who dared strike him, he guided the blade through the air, this time catching resistance on skin and padded material. His movements came in blurs as he advanced, forcing the attacker into a steady retreat while he landed blow upon blow. When his movements slowed his enraged opponent pressed the advantage of fatigue, managing to slam the escrima into Damian's leg.  
Damian screamed and dropped like a log, his body convulsing. His attacker held the escrima, sparking, close to Damian's neck. The white's of his domino mask narrowed. "Who the hell are you?" Damian snarled, battling his body as he managed to slap the stick away. "The son of Batman, you miserable wench!" It was a few hours later that the Bat himself had arrived to see two, bruised and bloodied from their battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is as far as I've written... do you guys like it? Should I continue?


End file.
